


no don't be afraid (i've got your back and you've got mine)

by itsagamefortwo



Series: five times something goes wrong and one time it goes right (jatp) [4]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: (because ghosts), (it's vague and not really explicitly called that but some might get that vibe, 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Flynn is a good friend, Gen, References to Depression, Swearing, and boy does she just repress them, and that's fine!!! its kind open to interpretation), but she's got feelings too, she just loves her friends so much, the best kind of friend if you will, this is totally not be projecting onto flynn nope not at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27370276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsagamefortwo/pseuds/itsagamefortwo
Summary: Flynn has always been good at putting other peoples feelings before her own, until one day hers break free.aka 5 times flynn puts someone else first +1 time she puts herself firstFlynn isn’t trusting by nature. She’s careful with who she loves and lets into her heart. Not out of any real past hurt or trauma, she’s just cautious. She has to be cautious, because Julie opens her heart – and home, apparently – to anyone.
Relationships: Alex & Flynn & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Flynn & Carrie Wilson, Flynn & Julie Molina
Series: five times something goes wrong and one time it goes right (jatp) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986928
Comments: 23
Kudos: 94





	no don't be afraid (i've got your back and you've got mine)

**_one_ ** . 

It had been an accident. 

The two of them had been playing, running around the house and jumping on the sofas - even though they knew they weren’t allowed to - and throwing pillows at each other and giggling loudly. Flynn had ducked down, holding her middle as she laughed when a pillow had sailed past her left shoulder. Going off course and knocking a vase of flowers off the windowsill and smashing on the floor. 

Tears had immediately started gathering in her little sister's eyes and Flynn jumped straight into action. She’d never been able to stand when someone started crying. 

“It’s okay! Don’t worry, you just stay on that side of the room. I’ll get the broom,” she jumped off the sofa, biting her lip as she inspected the mess and mentally adding paper towels to her list of things to get, before turning to run out of the room. 

Only to skid to a stop, eyes wide as she found her mom stood in the doorway. Arms crossed over her chest, glasses pushed up into her hair, single eyebrow raised and head tilted in the way that Flynn knew meant big trouble.

Like, no  _ ice cream  _ trouble.

“What’s going on here? And  _ why  _ is Bailey standing on the table?” Her eyes go from looking at Bailey directly to the flowers on the floor, a pool of water slowly making its way towards the rug through the obstacle course of vase shards. 

Flynn knows that there’s no way to avoid or get out of this, someone is getting in trouble and getting no ice cream after dinner, and she can still see Bailey’s big scared eyes in her head. So she shifts from foot to foot and makes a split second decision without thinking about it. 

“It’s my fault! We were playing and I accidentally hit the vase and I told Bailey to get on the table so she wouldn’t get hurt or her socks wet and I’m sorry! I was going to clean it up,” the words rush out of her in almost one breath and she’s panting a little at the end. 

For a moment her mom just  _ looks  _ at her, a look that says she knows that’s not the whole truth, but Flynn doesn’t back down. She stands a little bit taller, tries to make herself seem more grown up, but being eight years old and wearing mismatched socks with a green tutu, it's hard to be taken seriously. 

“It wasn’t Bailey's fault mom,” she stands by her story and, seeming to realise it, her mom just sighs, uncrossing her arms and running one over her face. 

“Okay. Okay, go get the broom. And some paper towels.” She calls after her, because Flynn had heard the first ‘ _ okay _ ’ and started moving again, heading to the kitchen in search of tools. 

When she got back to the living room her mom was kneeling next to the broken vase, carefully picking up the bigger pieces and putting them on an old magazine she’d pulled off the table while Bailey hovered on the other side of the room, her eyes still wide.

Flynn shot her a smile, hoped it was reassuring and went to help her mom. Handing paper towels over when asked and carefully picking up the flowers, one by one. 

“You know this means no ice cream, don’t you?” Her mom said eventually, when the broken vase was cleared away and all that was left was a very shiny spot of wood. 

Flynn looked up at her and found her mom already looking back, giving her one final chance to come clean about her sister's part in the accident, she thinks. But Flynn just nods her head, shrugging both shoulders as she holds damp tissues in both hands. Missing out on ice cream for one night is worth it if Bailey doesn’t get in trouble or start crying. 

“I know. Sorry, again.” She adds, tugging her lips into a small apologetic smile. For the mess, maybe a little for lying too. Her mom just sighs, but she smiles too, brushes some of Flynn’s hair out of her face and starts to stand up. 

“Go put that in the bin. And no more jumping on the sofa!” 

**_two._ **

Some days, and she couldn’t explain why, were just  _ bad  _ days.

There wasn’t really any explanation for it, Flynn just got kind of sad. 

Kind of lonely. 

Kind of quiet. 

It felt like her head was too loud and her heart was too empty. And there was a gaping hole in her gut and that the world was spinning on a slightly different axis to her. 

Everything was just a little off balance and she needed to hold on to something to steady herself. 

It was a strange feeling. Like there was too much of her and too little all at the same time. 

That she wanted to curl up in her bed and cry, but that she also wanted to sit with her friends and laugh because there wasn’t  _ really  _ anything wrong with her.

It was the kind of day that she just couldn’t explain to anyone without sounding weird. Or like she was asking for attention. Which she wasn’t. She didn’t want people’s sympathy or attention or special treatment. She just– she was  _ sad _ . 

And it made no sense because she didn’t  _ have _ anything to be sad about. 

Her family was still whole and together, unlike Carrie’s. She knew her mom loved her, knew that her dad would be picking her up after school, knew that her sister would watch all the music videos she wanted with her. She knew that when she got home all her family would  _ be  _ there.

Her family weren’t scheduling their lives around doctors appointments like Julie’s. They weren’t worrying about test results or medical bills or how much time there might be for them to do all the things they wanted to do. There was no dark cloud hanging over their lives. 

So how could Flynn be sad when her life wasn’t all that bad? 

There was no darkness lurking in the corners of her house or quite over the breakfast table. Things were  _ fine.  _ Her life was  _ happy _ .

And yet. It was a bad day. 

It was a bad day, but Julie and Carrie were having worse days. So Flynn did what she always did. She pushed down her feelings of being too lonely, too quiet, too loud, too much. She put a smile on her face, wrapped an arm around both of the girls and made a fool proof plan of fun for the afternoon. 

Her bad day would pass. It always did. And until it did she could pretend everything was fine. That she was happy. That there wasn’t anything wrong. Because there wasn’t. Not really. 

**_three._ **

Flynn had never been to a funeral until the day she’d gone to Mrs Molina’s. Anytime she’d worn an all black outfit before it had been a fashion choice. Or for Halloween. Or a performance for school. 

There’s a black dress that hangs in the back of her wardrobe now, and everytime she sees it, Flynn feels a little sick. 

She gets the same sort of sick feeling every time she sees Julie sitting in the back of the music classroom. Eyes down, hair in front of her face, notebook unopened. The first few weeks Flynn hadn’t been too worried. 

No one had really been too worried. 

Because everything was still fresh and real and new. No one had pushed her. No one had thought she wouldn’t come back to music eventually. 

Because she was Julie and it was music.

But then it’s been five months and Flynn is still looking at Julie, eyes on the ground, hair hiding her face, notebook in her bag. She comes into the classroom, sits in the back, shakes her head when Miss Harrison asks if she’s ready. 

Flynn knows that she’s still not been in the studio garage, because  _ she  _ is still watering the plants, and the piano has a fine layer of dust and there’s a song still unsung on top. 

Julie hasn’t played or sang or hummed a note in six months. She’s falling apart a little bit at a time. 

And Flynn doesn’t know how to help. 

Doesn’t know what to say or to do or how hard to push. It’s a fine line, she knows, between forcing her before she’s ready and letting the silence drag on too long. Flynn just doesn’t know  _ where  _ the line is. 

(A part of her worries, a small part in the back of her mind that’s always ready to pop in unasked, that maybe Carrie would know what to do. Maybe Carrie, who had known Julie, had known Mrs Molina, all her life, would have been able to _help_ in a way that Flynn isn’t.)

She’s walking into the music room one day at lunch, looking for her hat that she’s 73% sure she left on her chair when she comes to a stop in the doorway. Because Julie is sitting at the piano, the lid up and her fingers hovering over the keys. There’s a furrow between the other girls eyes and even from this distance Flynn can see there are tears running down her cheeks. 

Flynn bites her lip and backs out of the room. Her hat will still be there later and this isn’t a time to push Julie. 

By month seven when even Miss Harrisons patients is starting to wear a little thin, Flynn starts to make  _ plans _ . Ways to help Julie play again. Or even  _ listen  _ to music again. 

She decides to start small. 

A walk along the beach where she knew that busker Julie liked always played. 

Maybe they’d stop by that little music shop on the way home because Flynn needed to pick up some new strings.

Maybe drop some hints about a band they both liked going on tour. 

Without even realising it Julie will be surrounded by music again and realise how much she misses it. 

“Come to the beach with me on Saturday?” It’s the first thing she says when she sits down at lunch. Julie looks up from her sandwich, brows drawn together but there’s a hint of a smile. 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“Nope!” Flynn pops the ‘p’ and smiles wide (she’s making up for all the half smiles and no smiles that Julie gives out these days, she makes hers bigger, wider, gives them out more often. She knows when things get better Julie will repay the favour), stealing a few grapes from the plate in front of Julie and popping them in her mouth. 

“Guess I’ll see you at the beach on Saturday then.” 

The day starts out good.

They lounge round the beach, build terrible sandcastles and laugh at the tourists trying to take artistic shots in front of the sea. Then, at exactly 12:15 the busker arrives and sets up, starts playing his usual list of classic 80’s and early 2000’s bops. Flynn nods her head along with one of her favourites and watches from the corner of her eye as Julie gets a far away look in her eyes, fingers stilling where they’d been running through the sand. 

They stay for a little longer, the busker playing through three songs before Julie lets out a shaky breath and turns to look at her, eyes a little watery but smiling that half smile she’s gotten so good at. 

“Lunch?” She asks, head tilting and pointing over her shoulder in the vague direction of their favourite lunch spot.

“Sure. Oh! Hey, I need to stop by a store on the way, is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” and Julie is already stuffing her towel in her bag and dusting sand off her shorts. 

They’re half a block away from the store when Julie seems to realise just where they’re headed, and Flynn can tell because her steps seem to get a little slower and her fingers clutch at her bag a little tighter. By the time they’re stood outside the little second hand music shop --  _ Ron’s Relic Records _ , they’d never met Ron himself, but his record collection was definitely full of relic’s as far as Flynn could tell -- Julie’s fingers have grown pale from where she’s holding her bag strap and her lip is clamped between her teeth. 

“I’m– I’ll wait out here. Don’t want to drag sand through Ron’s,” Julie bites her lip, eyes looking up at the worn sign of the store and avoiding the old posters and ticket stubs displayed on the windows. Flynn swallows the sigh she wants to let out, and stops herself from commenting how there’s already sand covering the carpet. Instead she nods and gives her friend a thumbs up. 

“Sure! I’ll be quick!” 

Ten minutes later and Flynn is exiting the shop to find Julie leaning against the wall with her eyes staring straight ahead. 

So maybe the music store hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but that was okay, Flynn had more plans, more tricks, more ideas. Shouldering her bag and plastering a smile on her face she comes to a stop next to Julie. 

“Okay, lunch now!” And they start walking, idly small talk that feels awkward and Flynn doesn’t know how to fix that either. “You’ll never guess what I saw in the shop, you remember th–” but Julie cuts her off before she can even finish her sentence or her master plans can be put into action. 

“Flynn I think I’m gonna head home. Not feeling too great.” 

Flynn knows she’s lying, can see it in her eyes. Julie has always been a terrible liar, her face gives everything away, and normally Flynn is always glad to see her try, unless she’s lying to  _ her _ . Then she just finds it rude. 

“Are–” Flynn starts, but cuts herself off when she looks at Julie properly. At the red eyes, the chapped lips, the death like grip she has on her bag.

It’s possible, Flynn rationalises, that she’s pushed too hard today. She wants Julie to find joy in music again, but she doesn’t want to force it. So she takes a deep breath and links their arms together, squeezing her forearm. 

“Okay. Hey, do you think your dad will make us pancakes, since we’ve not had lunch?” 

“Probably,” Julie nods, her voice a little quiet but Flynn’s pretty sure she can hear the relief in it too. Relief that Flynn isn’t going to make her talk, relief that she can go home and that Flynn is coming too, relief that for now, the subject of music is being paused. 

It’s only been seven months after all, Flynn doesn’t think you can put a timetable on something like this. So she’ll keep trying and supporting and holding her hand. 

One day, Julie Molina will play again, and Flynn is going to be there to see it. 

**_four._ **

The thing is, after seeing Julie and her ghosts perform, Flynn realises that there’s something special about them. 

And it’s more than just the fact that they got her to  _ sing  _ again after a whole year of silence. It's more than the chemistry that is undeniable between Julie and Luke. It’s more than the way people have flocked to support them. 

They’ve made her smile again. Really, truly, fully smile. Wide and happy and full of light in a way that Flynn hasn’t seen her smile in well over a year. 

(They’ve got her to sing and play and smile in less than a month when Flynn hadn’t even managed to get a hum in a year. She’s trying not to think about that.)

So yeah, they might be ghosts.

And they can’t be seen without Julie or playing music. 

And  _ sure  _ there’s the whole ‘can’t touch anyone’ thing. 

And being in their band means Julie is off the market, music wise. 

But Julie is smiling and singing and writing songs and playing again. And if the price of that is  _ Double Trouble  _ being left behind, well, Flynn supposes she can deal with that. 

Even if it sucks. 

Because  _ Double Trouble _ , it was going to be their  **thing** . They were going to be amazing and spectacular and  _ way  _ better than  _ Dirty Candi.  _ They were going to write awesome songs and produce the coolest music videos and tour all around the world. 

_ Double Trouble  _ had been the dream since they were six years old. 

A part of her, a small yet loud part of her, was shouting about how  **_unfair_ ** it all was. That Carrie could be a bitch to them but still have a kickass group. That Julie could not play for a year but somehow stumble into a ready made band with ready made chemistry. 

And what did Flynn get? Nothing. 

The leftover scraps of a childhood dream. 

She’s not sure what to do with the scraps either. Does she put them together and hope there’s enough left for a solo act? Hope she can take the concept and find her own band? Hope that maybe one day the ghosts will pass on and  _ Double Trouble  _ can raise from the ashes? 

Okay, so that last hope was mean and maybe a little dark. She didn’t want to get her band with Julie just because she’d lost three people important to her. 

The thoughts nag at her for days, though. The what if’s and the hopes and the mean thoughts. She’s outside the garage, trying to push them into the back of her mind and put on a smile for when she walks in there. She can already hear the faint sounds of instruments tuning and then the low murmur of voices joining. 

“Is Flynn coming today? She was going to show me how that Ticking Tok thing worked.'' That was Reggie’s voice, she could tell (when had she learnt to tell their voices apart anyway?). And there, faintly but becoming stronger she could hear Luke replying. 

“She said she was, right? Because I’ve got this cool new song idea I want her to look at, there’s this part in the chorus that I think she’d be perfect for.”

Flynn thinks he says something else, she can hear Julie replying, Alex laughing. But she can’t make out any of the words because she’s so caught up on the idea that they were waiting for her. 

That they wanted her help with something, had plans that involved her. 

And she remembers then, that there’s something magical about Julie and her boys. And that maybe  _ Double Trouble  _ wasn’t meant to be, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t part of the band. 

In fact it made her a pretty important part of the band, given that she was one of two people who could actually be  _ seen  _ by people all the time. Plus, she was the only one with  _ any  _ kind of social media following, so really, they would be lost without her. 

This time, when she puts a smile on her face it doesn’t feel forced and she suddenly feels more relaxed then she has in weeks. 

Pushing open the doors Flynn is greeted by Alex sitting at his drums as Luke waves a notebook at him while he plucks idly at the strings of his guitar and Julie has her phone out, trying to explain something to Reggie that just has him looking confused. 

“I’m here, the party can begin!” She declares, grinning at them even as she flips her hair over one shoulder. And they grin at her, all four of them and Flynn feels bad for ever hoping for a day that the three ghosts would pass over.

**_five._ **

Flynn isn’t trusting by nature. She’s careful with who she loves and lets into her heart. Not out of any real past hurt or trauma, she’s just cautious. 

She has to be cautious, because Julie opens her heart – and  _ home,  _ apparently – to anyone. She’s trusting and forgiving and so damn kind that Flynn, well, Flynn has to keep her guard up in case it all falls apart. 

It’s why she’s always got an eye on the way Luke looks at Julie when he thinks no one is watching – and it’s awfully handy that they’re becoming visible and tangible randomly now, because she can keep an even better eye on things – and it’s not because Flynn thinks he has bad intentions. 

But he’s a ghost and Julie isn’t, and if someone is getting hurt badly in this scenario it’s going to be Julie. 

And Flynn made a promise a long time ago that she’d not let Julie get hurt if she can help it. She couldn’t stop the pain when her mom died and she couldn’t help when music seemed to leave her and she couldn’t halt any of the tears when Carrie said what she said. 

But maybe she could stop an impending heartbreak before it got too bad. And then they played  _ The Orpheum  _ and could be touched and sometimes seen and Flynn  _ really  _ got to know them and realised that a heartbreak was coming one way or another. She couldn't protect Julie from that. 

She could, however, protect her from Carrie. 

Julie might have been able to take Carrie’s apology, her peace offering, her attempts at making amends and forgive. But Flynn still remembers crawling under the covers with Julie, the two of them crying and holding hands and whispering all their worries. Mrs Molina had been there to help pick up the pieces, to hug them and make them laugh and blow off steam with loud music. 

There’s no Mrs Molina now, and Mr Molina has always tried to find the middle ground in their fights, even when they were kids and now Carrie is sitting across from her at the dining room table while they wait for the others. 

They look at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away, to break eye contact. It’s  _ awkward _ in a way that Flynn rarely feels awkward. 

Because she doesn’t know what to say. 

Because she doesn’t know how to act. 

Because she doesn’t know how Julie can let go of the past so easily despite knowing everything that she does. 

Carrie spent two and half years being a total bitch to them both. Rude and obnoxious and unhelpful at every turn. Like they hadn’t been friends for nearly ten years when she’d brought it crashing down around them. 

“You’re staying for the rehearsal?” Flynn forces the question past her lips, tries for civil and polite and making an effort. Because Julie has tried to forgive her and they  _ were  _ friends once,  **best** friends, and maybe there’s a chance they can be something like that again. 

“Julie said it was okay. There was a song they wanted to show me? I think Luke said it one my dad stole, but they perform it better.” And she says it so casually ‘ _ one my dad stole _ ’, like it’s no big deal that he profited off of stolen work, that Flynn has to clench her jaw to keep from saying something mean.

She’s glad she does, because then she notices the way Carrie is fiddling with the edge of the table cloth, the way she’s lowered her gaze and, when she replays the words, the way she stuttered, just a little on the word  _ ‘dad’ _ .

So maybe Carrie has changed, Flynn decides. Or maybe  _ change  _ is the wrong way to put it, maybe she’s just reverted back. 

Back to when they were thirteen and over excited and jumping around her living room until Flynn’s mom had come in to tell them off, Carrie had dropped immediately, eyes down cast and biting her lip. 

Back to when they were ten and Julie’s mom had dropped them both off at school and Carrie had been sad and she’d told her hesitantly about how her mom had  _ left _ . 

Back to when they were six and the first thing anyone said to her on her first day of school was that ‘ _ I like your bag! Do you want to be friends? _ ’ and Carrie has pulled her over to where Julie was colouring on the floor. 

“It’s probably because they have so much time to practice. They’re so lucky, not having to go to school,” it’s an attempt at a joke, small and only half true. But it’s an offering. 

Flynn’s eyes are still on Carrie so she notices the moment the other girl looks up, the slight sparkle in her gaze and the way her lips twitch, just a little. Accepting the offering. 

“I mean, they  _ are  _ dead, I’m not sure that’s considered lucky.” 

And then they’re talking, bantering, laughing. The conversation is a little stiled sometimes, a little awkward in the words unsaid. But it’s a conversation.

Flynn hasn’t forgiven her, not the way Julie has, not the way the boys seem to have. Because Flynn can still remember all the pain that Carrie had caused and she’s not ready to forgive her of that just yet. But she’s willing to try. For Julie. For Carrie. Even a little for herself. 

So she pushes all her anger down and talks to her ex-best friend. But she keeps her guard up, because she let Carrie in once and it ended in ruin and she’s not about to be the fool who let it happen twice.

**_+one._ **

She’s not sure what happens. One minute she’s going about her day, school and homework and deciding if posting the new  _ Julie and the Phantoms _ youtube video should be now or at the weekend, and yeah she’s not having a  _ good _ day, but she doesn’t think it’s a  _ bad _ day either. Nothing strange or unexpected happens. It’s just– it’s  _ a _ day. 

And yet. One second she’s fine, the next she’s crying.

She’s sitting on the sofa in the studio garage, waiting for Julie to finish with her own homework, idly scrolling through her phone when Alex poofs in with Luke hot on his heels. 

He’s smiling, happy and excited after a date with Willie from what she can gather. He’s talking so fast and hands waving in the air and Luke is watching it all with an easy smile and occasional nod. Luke sits himself down next to her (bumping his shoulder against hers because they can  _ do  _ that now apparently at will and it’s only a little strange, knowing she’s sitting so close to a ghost she can feel the heat coming from him, and  _ how _ is this boy always so warm when he’s  **dead** ?), shooting her a wink as he turns his attention back to Alex and Flynn can’t help but smile, eyebrows raising as she too watches the blonde. 

Flynn doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him so excited. So at ease. 

“–and he just, he jumped right over this bench! It was so cool Luke,  _ he’s  _ so cool! He tried to show me how to– Oh! Hey Flynn,” Alex cuts himself off, finally seeming to notice that she’s sat there and gives her an awkward wave with his hand that’s still half up in the air. 

“Hey Alex, good date, huh?” She can’t help but tease him a little, wagging her eyebrows and pulling her lips into a sly smile. And then Alex is  _ blushing,  _ scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding her eyes, making noncommittal sounds. She would be worried she’d said something wrong but she can feel Luke laughing next to her. 

“It was uh– yeah, yeah a good date,” he’s biting his lip and still not looking at her, but Flynn can see a small smile trying to tug at his lips as he turns away, pretending to find something in the jumble of clothes piled next to the piano. 

“It was their first ‘official’ date,” Luke whispers next to her, his eyes still trained on Alex’s back and there’s such  _ joy  _ in his words that Flynn can feel herself tearing up. 

And she doesn’t know why this sets her off. 

Why seeing Alex, coming back from his first official date with another ghost, so  _ happy  _ and full of  _ excitement _ , and seeing the way Luke is just  _ radiating  _ joy for his friends happiness. 

Why  _ this  _ sets her off crying. 

One second she’s fine, the next she’s sobbing and Alex is spinning around so fast his hat falls off and Luke is gaping at her in a kind of horror that might be funny any other time. 

“I– I–” She tries to say something, but she can’t get the words past her lips. They keep getting stuck in her throat as another sob tears through her and her eyes are blurred by tears and her hands are shaking, she knows that because her phone slips from between her fingers, making a soft thud on the rug. 

“Go get Julie,” she thinks that’s Alex, she can’t quite tell. But she can hear the tell tale sign of a ghost poofing out and then a pair of arms and carefully wrapping around her shoulders and she’s crying into a denim jacket. So, Alex then, definitely Alex. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Shush, it’s okay,” he keeps saying it over and over, his voice gentle and calm and Flynn lets herself  _ cry _ . She hears the door open, hears feet rushing in, hears someone let out a soft gasp. 

“What happened?” And that’s Julie, Flynn would know Julie’s voice anywhere. It’s a bit like a beacon, a light source in the dark, she could hear Julie’s voice and follow it home. Lifting her head up from where it’s been resting on Alex’s shoulder she tries to spot her friend and doesn't have to look far because Julie is crouching in front of her, concern all over her face and wide eyes. 

It just makes Flynn cry harder. 

Because she doesn’t want to upset her friend. She doesn’t want her to  _ worry  _ or  _ panic  _ or think that there’s something  _ wrong _ . Because there’s not. Nothing is wrong. Her life is perfectly fine. And yet she’s crying uncontrollably on a sofa into a ghosts shoulder.

There’s an awkward moment where Alex gets up and she’s left alone on the sofa and her head feels like it’s going to fall and then Julie is there, and her arms are around her and she’s letting Flynn collapse on her. 

Holding her up and together. Just the way Flynn has always tried to hold  _ her  _ up and together. 

She doesn’t know how long she cries for. 

When she finally gets some control over her own emotions, her eyes, her breathing, Flynn lets out a long and shaky breath. There’s a wet patch on Julie’s jumper, and she knows her face must be a mess of mascara and eyeliner. 

Julie passes her a tissue, waits until she’s wiped her face as best she can, and then exchanges it for a bottle of water. Flynn drinks and keeps her eyes closed the whole time. 

“Where–” She croaks out, throat still sore from crying and she swallows, opens her mouth to try again but Julie seems to know what she’s trying to ask. 

“I sent them inside to help Carlos with his maths homework. Reggie is surprisingly good with numbers,” there’s a teasing tone in her voice and Flynn doesn’t have to be looking at her to know there’s a smile on her face too. 

They sit in silence for a while, Flynn drinking her water, Julie passing her tissues, a question hanging in the air. 

“I just–” Flynn starts, takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s not sure how to even  _ explain  _ any of this. She doesn’t even really know why she started crying. When she opens her eyes again and blows out a breath, she shuffles back a little from Julie so she can pull her legs up onto the sofa and cross them under her. Through it all Julie sits patiently and  _ waits _ . Flynn almost wants to cry again. 

“Sometimes, and I mean, like rarely. It’s not a big deal or anything. And mom took me to the doctors and they said it wasn’t a big deal either so, it’s just. Y’know. It’s just that– that sometimes I get sad. That the world gets too much and I’m just– I’m not enough. For the world. Or you,” she shrugs, fingers pulling apart the tissue in her hands and looking somewhere over Julie’s left shoulder. “And it makes no sense really, because nothing all that  _ bad  _ has happened to me, y’know? There’s nothing really for me to be sad about.” 

She can see Julie opening her mouth, her eyes widening and getting ready to say something but Flynn stops her, finally making eye contact again and shaking her head quickly. 

“No, no don’t. It’s true. Because I haven’t lost my mom and my family is happy and Bailey  _ always  _ covers for me if I spill soda all over the floor and I’m not  _ dead _ unlike three people we know. My life is  **_fine_ ** . But sometimes I just– I just get  _ sad _ , Jules. And normally it’s fine, it passes and everythings fine. And then today, Alex was just, he was so happy y’know? And so was Luke. And they’re  _ dead,  _ but they’re out there, being  **happy** ! And I’m alive and I just felt so sad today and it’s stupid because there’s nothing to be sad  _ about _ .” 

Flynn doesn’t think anything she just said made sense, but it’s too late to take any of it back now. The words are out in the world and Julie heard them all. Dropping her head into her hands Flynn lets out a groan, her fingers gripping on to her braids and pulling lightly. And then Julie’s hands are on top of hers and gently detangling her fingers until she’s holding her hands. 

“Flynn, look at me,” her voice is gentle, holding the tone that she usually reserves for when Carlos comes home sad about losing a baseball game. It’s also the tone that she knows no one can say no to. So Flynn lifts her head, shaking it a little as she looks at her best friend. 

“Your feelings  _ are _ a big deal Flynn. And it’s not stupid. You can’t help the way you feel, it’s  _ okay _ to feel sad,” Julie squeezes her hand slightly, lets one go so she can wipe at tears Flynn hadn’t even noticed were falling again. “Just because you haven’t– you don’t have to have some big tragic event in your life to deserve to be sad. You’re allowed to just...be.” 

“But–” Flynn starts, though she’s not sure what she wants to say, which is maybe for the best because Julie cuts her off by grabbing her other hand again and pulling both up to place a kiss on her knuckles. 

“No buts. If you want to be sad, you can be sad. But you have to tell us, otherwise– we can’t help if we don’t know Flynn. And as funny as Luke’s reactions are when he sees a girl crying, I’d rather it just be when our favourite character dies on a tv show, not because you’ve burst into tears out here.” 

And that startles a laugh out of her, a little watery and raspy, but it’s a laugh and she smiles at Julie, this time squeezing her hands. 

“He really doesn’t know how to handle a crying girl does he?” 

“No! He’s so dramatic about it too–” If Julie was going to say anything else it was cut off by the sound of someone letting out an indigent ‘ _ hey! _ ’ and then three ghosts were standing in front of the sofa, Alex and Reggie holding back laughter while Luke was wearing his frowny-pouty face, arms crossed. 

“We weren’t listening, but that’s just rude! I so do know how to handle it when people cry!” 

It starts an argument, about twenty-five years without a hug and sneaking into rooms when they were teenagers and how he’d been the first to hug Julie after  _ The Orpheum.  _ But Flynn is only half listening, because Julie is still holding her hands, and Alex has nudged her out of the way so he can sit down on her other side and Luke and Reggie have brought their little discussion closer.

She’s surrounded by them all, and yeah it’s still a  _ bad  _ day but maybe she doesn’t have to handle them alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hi!! so this got a little away from me lmao gotta give a lil shout out to insteadofjust_invisible and nerdyleafeon (on tumblr) for their Flynn 5+1 suggestions. I, personally, feel like it's not _that_ sad until the +1 bit, but idk i didn't think the luke one was that sad and i was wrong. 
> 
> as a wee disclaimer: i don't think flynn has depression, i think she just pushes all her own feelings aside so often in favour of someone elses that they're bound to all come bursting out at some point. (and this is totally me projecting because i too burst into tears on my friends once because i'm terrible at expressing my own emotions) BUT if you read it as her having depression that is fine too!! 
> 
> and if anyone ever wants to talk because they're sad/lonely/lost/whatever, my inbox on here or tumblr or discord is always open if people want to talk. bottling things up is never good, especially given the current global situation. don't be afraid to talk to someone 💕
> 
> anyway!!!  
> i hope you're all staying safe in these hard times.  
> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are appreciated!! mwah xox  
> you can also find me on [tumblr](https://tangledstarlight.tumblr.com/)!


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